Killer, Gaston says in total deadpan. To die for. The "entertainment" was a little stiff, though.
Could it be that the company of other dark oddballs is rousing his sense of humor?
Sabina reaches out and straightens Blackacre's lapel. She smiles. Her eyes flash. "And you tell them who the clothes you wear made? You bring ชื่อเสียงที่ดี to Sabina's name?"
Quinn steps forward and speaks enthusiastically, "Your disguises worked beautifully. They had no idea who we were. Your magics concealed my true face, even a young lass put a few moves on me." The monk winks at Sabina and offers a thumbs up.
Ianez looks around and sighs quietly. "Mistress, we had a question for you. Forgive my bluntness, but who were you speaking with at the back entrance? We have lost Dr. Grey, you see, and are worried about him."
Sabina chokes down an age-old hatred, and forces a collegial smile for Quinn.
At Ianez's query, her face twitches. She appears to debate something in her head, then decides to speak. "You are man who knows language of drow. I respect. I appreciate your candor."
She circles the archaeologist and peers at him closely. The jointed legs glide over each other. "But there is other side to drow. Know when to hold tongue. I serve very high-end, wealthy clients. It was project for one of these..."ค่าคอมมิชชั่นพิเศษ." For business purpose, I keep information confidential. You understand."
"Too bad about doctor. I know nothing about."
"Sabina เรียน"
La Siréene moves over to Sabina, takes a hand and kisses it, her smile almost glowing.
"The glamers were wonderful."
I lift Phoebe up, bringing her small form to sit on my hip. Do not be afraid, be respectful. I tell the girl is a soft firm voice, the advice of a friend.
The proprietress is delighted at La Siréene's news. "A success for us both!"
And then she betrays her previous edict, and can't resist gushing. "You be pleased to know, our business relationship doing well. You are valued customer. I don't mind telling, special order I made for client...so nice! They love so much. I never make anything like it before." She wants to lapse into Undercommon, but struggles to say it in the Common tongue. "One-of-a...kind!"
"Made of materials from the dragon!" she proudly announces.
"Ms Sabina. Whatever anyone says about you, they must acknowledge that you have the soul of an Artist. A shopkeeper would talk of profit, or opportunities. An Artist talks of the thrill of creation."
The Earl straightens, and combs back his now-wild hair with his fingers.
"I fancy we are more similar than I had first thought. I have been told I also possess the soul of an Artist."
"Tell me, Madchën, what do you think happens to that soul when you die?"
There is a gleam in the Earl's eye that would be more in keeping with the soulless automaton at his side.
The drider takes in Caromarc's appearance; it looks like she is half-startled, half-contemplating what she can take from it for her next design. She gets a hard look to her face. "Ah! I may have soul of shopkeeper and artist, but I am not cleric. Now we talk religion? Well..." She picks up a long, pearl-tipped hatpin, rolls it between her fingers. "Most people are unsuited for anything except be devoured by spider-goddess. Existence is brutal, unforgiving, eat or be eaten. Whatever happens, stay on guard, climb to the top." She holds the hatpin poised like a tiny pretend dagger.
"Whatever happens." In her voice is a note of fear.
Phoebe bounds over to a rack of clothes. She grabs a tunic and holds it up to herself. "Hey, guys! Look, it's you!"
Sure enough, it's a black tunic with a rough picture on the front of the six of you, along with Caromarc's minions, standing triumphantly around the severed head of the umbral dragon. In jagged green lettering across the top, to reflect the glowing liquid in the tank on the dragon, it reads Dragon Dirgebane 6.
"I want one!" Phoebe exclaims. She throws it over her head and wriggles her arms into it, trying it on. She stands and poses in front of a mirror, checking out her new look.
The tunic is a popular-seller. While you're in the shop consulting with the drow, several townsfolk who have braved the night enter the store, purchase some of the shirts, recognize that you're the people represented, and have hushed conversations of excitement about you behind their hands.
Your reputation grows throughout the land.
Blackacre diligently avoids eye contact with the townsfolk.
Nonetheless, those of you with a keen eye detect the hint of a smile escaping the mask of Ragathiel's Fist.
"I'm quite glad that this establishment can profit at the misery and suffering of others."
Quinn turns away in disgust and whispers to himself,"Just like a drow."
Quinn, will you always be negative? I do not want to be prideful or... vain. But it is HOPE.
Quinn snickers at the question. "Hehehe Sure."
The monk point tothe child and asks, "How much for what she is wearing?"
The assistant tells you that the tunics sell for 10 gp each, but at a discounted cost of 7 gp for you. Madam Sabina expresses pleasure that you stopped by, excuses herself, and disappears into a back room momentarily. The assistant busies herself with preparing your purchase. It inadvertently happens that the ledger is left out on the counter, open for all to see. If you try to look at it, the salesgirl would know, unless you weren't obvious about it. It's unlikely that she'll leave and give you a moment alone with the receipts.
Blackacre looks at the salesgirl, then the ledger, and cuts a glance at La Sireene.
Quinn offers the sales girl the 7 gp for the tunic. He places it on the counter, away from the ledger, and says to the girl "This is a present from your Uncle Quinn".
He then calls the sales girl over to him and Pheobe. "Excuse me young lady, do you have any more items here with our likeness? Maybe something a young girl would like?"
La Siréene smiles invardly as Gaston glances at her, and then moves toward the counter as Quinn does, as if to offer to pay for Pheobe's shirt. When Quinn places the money on the counter, however, she turns to him with a sardonic smile on her lips; "Ah, you were faster than me, Quinn."
...And stays at the counter when the saleslady’s attention is diverted by Quinn, taking this chance to discreetly check its contents.
To Quinn, the salesgirl shakes her head no. "Hold on." She reaches over to a small rack and unclasps a leather bracelet with blunted spikes on it. "Miss might like this to go with it. It is youthful." She slips the bracelet onto Phoebe's wrist. The oracle's eyes light up now that she looks like your groupie. She gives the cop a Please, Uncle Quinn! look, with big, hopeful puppy eyes. The salesgirl holds up three fingers and mouths over the girl's head, 3 gp.
While the salesgirl responds to Quinn, you are able to scan the page twice -- once to check names, another to confirm what you saw. You see the entries in split-vision, both normal and emerald green. The eye-scope automatically drops a ruler into your sight with scrolling measurements; you pinpoint what you're looking for amazingly accurately and quickly. The most recent entry in the ledger is today's date, paid in full, for an item called 'Eternity Bracers'. The cost of the bracers is very expensive. A price that only few could afford.
The person who could afford it was one P. (this part too scrawling to read, ending in...)---lisle.
Ianez shakes his head in amusement, at the shirt design and at Phoebe's antics. "Do you know, Quinn, I think the artist captured you rather well."
You are right, Ianez... his head, almost shiny. Sandru looks around the store for weapons all the while keeping Phoebe in his sights.
Hah. My ideology one, everyone else's zero. Constructs want constructs alive because they feel strange about constructs dying. I want constructs alive because constructs are interesting.
Mine is more enjoyable.
Moving over to Ianez and Sandru, La Siréene contemplates the t-shirt designs critically.
"Hm, I don't know, never thought about it before, but I am very definitely the only female in the group on these, aren't I. The artist went a little overboard with that, in my opinion."
As she speaks, she picks out a piece of paper from her pouch and starts sketching a landscape absentmindedly, frowns, crumples the paper a bit and sketches more intently, now jotting down
before sighing theatrically, quickly folding the paper into an airplane, and launching said airplane at Gaston’s ear, with a giggle and a nigh-imperceptible wink.
Quinn takes out another 3 gold pieces and hands it over to the sales girl. He says to Pheobe, "You look good....hip even... not like me though."
The monk stares at Pheobe, the tunic and the leather bracelet. He then says to the sales girl "Excuse miss. Would you happen to have another tunic and leather bracelet? Just like what my niece just purchased?"
The salesgirl nods and presents the merchandise for sale.
Quinn hands over another 10 gp to the sales girl. He then hands the items over to Pheobe. He whispers to the young girl, "This is for your sister Agnes. You can give this to her when we get her back...like a welcome home gift."
"By the way, you need any supplies? Backpack? Anything for our trip?"
Blackacre lets out a Gaah! as the paper airplane ([dice=ranged touch "attack"]1d20+6[/dice]) skims past his head.
He snatches the paper up off the floor, unfolds and examines it, then tells La Sireene it is a nice drawing before folding it back up and putting it in his pocket.
We still looking around? I think Sabina has told us all she will.
At mention of her sister, Phoebe's eyes flare. The girl is scrappy and high-strung. "Thanks for the tunic and bracelet, but they're all I need. I have a bag with me, and I travel light anyways." She gratefully accepts the extra tunic for Agnes.
Ianez nods. "I think we have all Sabina can offer at the moment, and the Library awaits."
La Siréene agrees. "Yes. Let's make our way to the Library."
"Ms Sabina. It seems there is a new god a-rising. And you may discover, as I did, that he knows your name."
The Earl bids Ms Sabina farewell with the most courtly of manners. He bows deeply and takes her hand
"I hope we will meet again, Madame. I suspect we will not."
He kisses her hand
"If you live through this, remember me as I once was, please."
A final flourish
"The right honourable Lord Jornel of Carmomarc. Noble, wizard and human."
With that the Earl strides towards the door.
Quinn put the tunic and leather bracelet in his backpack.
The monk then looks over his ammo and decides that he needs to replenish his ammo.
"We are here anyway. Might as well stock up on arrows."
He approaches the sales girl again."Excuse me dear lady. Would you happen to have any slashing arrows?"
The drow girl politely informs Quinn that they don't have such arrows.
After investigating this new mystery about your merchant, you gather your things and depart from Madam Sabina's shop.
Your group travels through town until the signs of city life grow few and far between. The shops and domiciles with their quaint Ustalavian character drop away behind you. The downpour is steady until you reach the outskirts of town, when it lightens into a fine, drizzling mist. The landscape changes from the rust and gray of urban environments to the silvery-green of heaths and moors.
After a while, you see the Library of Anaphexia in the distance. It's an enormous black citadel rising out of the gloom. From where you are, you see its twisting, black towers only in silhouette. You come to two simultaneous conclusions immediately. First, Olivia and her aunt must have made a special trip to be walking this far out in the middle of nowhere...hardly a normal "morning constitutional". Secondly, the Anaphexia don't maintain secrecy so much as they scare all trespassers away. This is a dim and desolate place, the kind that draws bandits, thieves, and outlaws. Where unwary travelers disappear...a cry in the night...later to be found face-down in shallow graves or floating in the mire.
You stand on the top of a hill, at the edge of a valley between you and the library. The ground is not quite marsh, but it's soft, wet, and mucky beneath your feet. The library is encircled by an immense wall of tangled brambles and thorns. The narrow valley between you and the library is the only means of access. In order to reach your destination, you must pass through it.
Dense fog has descended into the hollow. It looks like a sea of silvery clouds. The descent ahead of you is 80 feet deep.
During or at the end of their walk to the hill, when he is first confident that there are no spies or ghouls around, , Blackacre turns to La Sireene and Quinn.
So Paige Carlisle bought some Eternity Bracers... I wonder if that was our quarry, Mr. Quinn?
"Hmmm. Would make sense. When we got to the alley our target disappeared. In the palace she casted invisibility. She probably did the same thing to me again. I hope I don't regret letting her go."
There are no spies or ghouls around, or anything much else for that matter. As you step through the muck, you kick aside the mulched, brown remains of broken skulls, ribs, and femurs.
Quinn kneels on the soft ground and begins to examine it.
Quinn rises up from the ground and stare at the party.
"I know those tracks anywhere. Looks like Hergelund is ahead of us. He's heading for the library too."
The valley covers the remaining 140 feet to the library, but the dense fog will likely slow you down. Visibility is only 5 feet. You are able to make untrained Survival checks to track because the marshy ground is soft and easily holds impressions of footprints.
"Can anyone sense anything?" asks the Early, looking out at the sea of mist.
With visibility so poor, Ianez stows his bow and draws his sword, listening carefully for anything approaching.
"Let's take it nice and easy. Walk at half speed. Pheobe stays in the middle, with La Sireene and master Caromarc. Sandru will take point. I'll back him up. Darkvision is useless in the haze. We are all on equal footing when it comes to sight. Gaston and Manservant will pick up the rear."
Quinn approaches Gaston and begins to speak arcane words then touch the man."Of the most basics of spells. For a short time....you and I can communicate....whisper... if need be. Warn each other of coming hazards."